The Final Days
by ncfan
Summary: Revenge of the Sith is seen through the eyes of a handmaiden, who is a silent, but not impassive observer.


Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars.

Author's Note: You decide which handmaiden you think it is.

* * *

It is sunset. The sky over Coruscant is stained lemon and carnation in it's shades. The skyline looks almost attractive now. Almost, but not quite.

I do not like it here, though I faithfully serve my Lady. I am not sensitive to the Force, but even I know that a Coruscant without it's people is dead and lifeless, a barren thing, and it is too close to that even with the diverse population.

We are anxious. Senator Amidala has insisted on traveling to the Senate this day with only Sabé and Captain Typho guarding her. They are capable, but they are only two, and my sister and I wish we could swell their ranks.

But they appear to have done just fine. The Senator has just returned from the Senate. Sabé is with her, dressed in an elegant dark gown, but with a rich dark purple handmaiden's cloak pulled about her, the hood drawn and shrouding her head, to prove that some habits die hard, and some harder than others.

Our Lady stares at us and through us as though we are made of smoke, just as she always does. She claims to care for us, but I am beginning to believe that we are nothing more than shapeless shadows to her, beings with no form; she never pays us any mind, unless to give us orders, or, in recent months, to caustically criticize us (It is, I am quite sure, the pregnancy talking). However, though we are nothing to her, she will remain closeted in her personal quarters with Sabé for hours on end. It is clear that Sabé does not enjoy these meetings.

We move to help her out of her stiff, ornate, concealing Senatorial gown and headdress, and into a simple day gown that is no less concealing.

Lady Amidala's pregnancy is moving along relatively normally. Her belly is swollen, as are her ankles. Her breasts are enlarged, and, by all accounts, throbbingly tender; she gave up on the tight whalebone corset we usually lace her into long before her belly began to swell at all. She is experiencing excruciating back pains. The Lady is rapidly becoming ungainly and swaybacked; it is for this reason, as much as her bulging womb, that we conceal her body in flowing robes with nothing even closely resembling a waistline.

The Lady is going through what I call emotional troubles; my sister calls it temper tantrums. She is having problems with her husband; she is undergoing the violent mood swings associated with pregnancy.

She has always been somewhat overbearing as a mistress, constantly reminding us of her superior rank, if only unconsciously, and behaving somewhat haughtily towards us, as she has all her handmaidens. She who is capable of great kindness is capable, also, of great, careless cruelty, as we have painfully discovered. It is most often manifested in the terrible risks that she would have us take, without regret, remorse, not even a second thought for her silent bodyguards.

So many of our number have been killed as a result of this vicious negligence, and Dormé did what none before us ever did; she packed her bags and left, to find greener pastures with Queen Jamillia, and now serves as Queen Apailana's principal handmaiden. Sometimes I wonder whether or not she was the bravest of us all.

Before her relatively sweet and disinterested nature would make this tolerable, but her pregnancy has brought out a side of her I hope to never see again. She has become the haughty virago, impossible to deal with.

Two weeks earlier, she slapped Sabé across the face harder than I have ever seen someone hit. It was the first time I had ever seen her lay hands on anyone. Sabé's eyes watered from the force of the blow, and a thin rivulet of blood leaked from the side of her lip. There was a ruddy mark on her face later. She dabbed at her eyes with a worn, faded handkerchief, and wiped the blood away from her mouth with her hand. But as for reaction, though her eyes flashed dangerously, Sabé did nothing but bow her head.

Her reaction both perplexed and amazed me.

I thought to myself, _If she ever treated me like that, I would not meekly bow my head like an acolyte, obeying her superiors. I would fight back. _Today, I finally get my chance.

Sabé has asked me to retrieve the Senator's shoes. I fumble with the elegant little velvet shoes. Lady Amidala sees, brown eyes like old, polished wood taking in all. "You stupid girl! Why are you so clumsy?!" She grabs my arm in a claw like grip, twists it so I must face her, and backhands me with a ringed hand, slashing open the supple, unlined skin of my cheek.

I am steaming, furious. _How dare she treat me this way? I am her handmaiden, not her punching bag! She wouldn't treat the most wretched animal this way. _The cut on my cheek burns unbearably hot, crimson blood oozing away from it sluggishly.

Then I look up. The imagined retort dies on my lips, for me eyes meet hers, and in them I see the very depths of hell. The unholy fire of her gaze is telling me a great deal. _You are expendable. You are not indispensable, do not ever think that you are. Cordé and Versé weren't, and neither are you. Another slip up, and you will have a fate worse than theirs._

Banishment is a worse fate than that of death for a handmaiden of Naboo.

When a Naboo handmaiden dies, she has died to protect her mistress, and is honored. When she is banished, she lives, and lives in shame.

Banishment indicates that for whatever reason, a handmaiden has failed her mistress. Either she is a poor worker, disloyal, or she has been banished for the most common reason: lascivious behavior. Handmaidens, like Jedi, are not encouraged towards intimacy with another, and are seriously reprimanded if they are found to have been intimate with another.

The banished handmaiden is ostracized from society. Her family will not take her back; she will have difficulty finding work; men will not, for the most part, view her as an attractive prospect for a potential mate.

I know that the Lady has held the threat of banishment over Sabé's head to get her to do what she wants, even though it is clear that Lady Amidala is relatively fond of Sabé, if none of the rest of us. When Dormé left, Lady Amidala, probably out of pure, unadulterated spite, tried to hint that she had been banished. Thankfully for Dormé's sake, all of Amidala's "hints" fell on deaf ears.

My courage shrivels up inside of me. I think to myself, completely cowed, _She is my mistress. It is not my place to disobey her, or to ever question her. If she chooses to mishandle me, it is my fate, and my duty to comply. It is just her pregnancy, the stressful times, that compels her to behave so. It will pass. Her temper will sweeten, coming back to what it used to be._

She isn't normally like this, anyway. Normally, she treats us with some semblance of fairness. She's no goddess of sweetness and light, but she's painfully human, and that's something we can all sympathize with.

I hang my head, and contritely place the shoes on her feet. As I leave the room for some salve, Sabé catches my shoulder with a benign hand. She leans down, and whispers in my ear, "Discretion is the better part of valor. So is knowing when, and when not, to duck." Her face is neutral, but her eyes gleam sympathetically. I sigh. She has been doing this for a lot longer than I have.

* * *

The four of us are gathered outside of Senator Organa's apartments. We are dressed in simple clothes, not those of handmaidens and Senators. Despite his vehement protestations, we have left Captain Typho at home. He was sitting on the couch when we departed, and I could swear I saw steam coming out of his ears. What we are doing here could potentially get us killed.

It is the middle of the night, and the hall is darkened. I am thankful for that; it helps to mask our identities.

Sabé knocks on the door. Senator Organa opens it, looking grave. The principal handmaiden lowers her hood to reveal loose hair. "Are we safe here? Can we be sure that they will not know?" Her voice is low and strong, but with the undertones of nervousness.

"I have checked my apartment over thoroughly for listening devices, Sabé," the Alderaani Senator answers his longtime friend gravely.

"How thoroughly?" Sabé demands, her habitually quiet voice as sharp and keen as the vibroblade she carries.

Organa gives her a "What do you think?" sort of look. "As thoroughly as I could without it being noticed."

Sabé's answer is a grimace. "It will have to do."

Bail invites us in. "Sabé, please come in." He stands aside to let us through. "And Padmé. And you." He looks over Lady Amidala's head to smile at my sister and I.

While I will be quite surprised indeed if he knows either of our names, Bail Organa has always been kind to us, and he is probably the most honest Senator either of us have ever met, so we can not help but like him. The fact that he is _extremely _good-looking helps his case immensely.

We step inside. Among our number are other Senators such as Mon Mothma and Garm Bel Iblis of Corellia.

"I think we all know why we are here," Organa addresses us, when we sit down on the couches. "This Republic needs new leadership!"

The other Senators nod, and we handmaidens simply exist in silence, watching on, lips clamped shut. Though we agree wholeheartedly, among us only Sabé has the authority to voice an opinion at discussions like this. And that authority is somewhat self-appointed.

"How?" Mothma protests. "The Chancellor has too much power. In times like these, an attempted vote of no-confidence would be disastrous. We are few. No one would support us!"

Organa seems to have thought of this. "I suggest that we draft a petition demanding the Chancellor's resignation. Once we have enough signatures, we can approach the Chancellor with our petition."

Iblis scowls. "This'll be dangerous. We're going to need protection."

This time it is Amidala who interjects. "If we go around armed, it is bound to rouse suspicion. It is not like Senators and their staffs are routinely heavily armed."

"Speak for yourself," Sabé mutters; all can hear her. "We--" here, she points to us, standing behind the couch where she and our Lady sit "--are always armed, heavily. Tell your security staff what to do."

"The skill and loyalty of the Naboo handmaidens are well-known, my Lady, but we can not trust our staff as much as your mistress can hers," another Senator, whom I do not know, points out.

Sabé focuses the man in her gaze. "Then pick out those whom you _can _trust, and inform them of the situation."

That was nearly a month ago. Now, we all sit in Senator Organa's apartment again. Instead of being night, it is day.

My sister and I stand behind Lady Amidala; Sabé sits beside her, cloak hoods pulled down. We listen as Organa, Lady Amidala, and other senators discuss necessary treason. Sabé puts in the occasional comment, mentioning security risks and ways to stabilize the government once the Chancellor is ousted, drawing Organa's eye.

My sister and I are exceptionally edgy. If the wrong people find out about the conversations going on in this apartment, we could all end up imprisoned, or, more likely, killed.

But unfortunately, these talks are necessary. The Chancellor is far too powerful for his own good or any of ours, and his tenure in office is long overdue for an end. Even Lady Amidala, once his staunchest supporter, feels it is time for him to step down.

There is something about him that neither I nor my sisters like. The way he says things, the glint in his eyes when he talks about making the Republic "a better place": he has a grasping, avaricious, positively predatory look about him when he does these things, the look of a cat playing with a mouse before delivering the killing bite to the back of the neck.

He can not be trusted.

* * *

I love the baths here. There is one large, low bath, just for us handmaidens. One of the few perks of the job. It is huge, filled to the lipless brim with steaming water that sends up wisps of smoke, around eight feet at the deepest; it is wonderful for swimming in. The room is under the main apartment. It is dimly lit, with a strange, ghostly blue light; the water casts constantly moving light blue shadows on the smooth walls. The only sources of outside light are narrow, vent-like windows at the place where the side walls and the ceiling meet. The floors and ceilings are covered with cool, smooth white ceramic tiles. There are changing rooms and bathrooms at the far wall, away from the two windows.

Lady Amidala has a bath like this, though almost certainly more lavish and luxurious; I have never been in her bathroom, so I would not know what her bath is like. I wonder if hers is as big as ours. That would be wonderful, but it would get lonely, having a huge bath all to herself.

My sister handmaiden and I step down the stairs at the door, bare feet utterly silent on the floor. Sabé is here. I am more than a little surprised. Sabé keeps different hours than us, and she has usually been in and out of here long before we arrive.

She is asleep, head nodding off the brim, her entire upper torso exposed to our eyes. Neither one of us really minds (we've seen far worse), but I notice for the first time, how white and worn she looks, and how frail she has grown. What deep cloaks and handmaiden's dresses could hid, the bathwater has exposed.

Sabé wakes, hearing our approach. She blushes a deep, ruddy red, and sinks in the water up to her neck, her dark cloud of hair fanning out in all directions like a blooming black lily.

We smile at her, disrobing and slipping, without making a single, solitary splash, into the bath for what will hopefully be an uneventful wash.

The water is just as steaming and welcoming as we hoped it would be. I can feel the knots in my back easing out. My sister treads water for a few seconds, ducking her head under the water so her silken dark hair lays flat on her head, before coming to the edge beside me. Her small, delicate body resembles a fish or a water bug as she swims, sighing and most likely feeling more calm than any of us have been in weeks.

We relax for a few minutes. Then we look at one another. There is a question we both want to ask her, and we had decided that the next time we were alone with her, we would ask it. But something stops us. Sabé is fiercely loyal, the best friend to have. However, despite her shyness, she is an incredibly hard woman, very difficult to love or even like. Most people who know her either love her profoundly or despise her with all the fires of Hell. We find her to be very hard to approach.

Finally, my sister brings up the question that has been plaguing us for the past few weeks. "Sabé," she says, in slightly shrinking tones, "we're afraid. What's going to happen?"

I blink reproachfully at her. That is much vaguer than what I had in mind.

"I don't know what's going to happen." Her voice is unaccountably harsh, her deep, pool eyes enigmatic. "But you should be afraid. It's all falling apart." Quiet and fleet as a cat, she flits out of the bath. So swiftly that we can hardly see it, she winds the towel about herself and leaves.

* * *

The Lady is staring out of the window, stock-still. Her face is cast red in the dying day.

Something very strange is going on. She makes certain mannerisms and facial expressions, as though seeing someone who is not there. Her eyes are glassy and glazed, her face worried and whitening.

She is staring out to the Jedi Temple, staring as if her life depends upon it.

My sister and I start to move forward to ask her if she is alright, for her behavior is truly bizarre, but Sabé stops us with a warning look.

The Lady stays like this for nearly ten minutes, shaking her head and mouthing words, growing increasingly agitated.

When Amidala finally seems to snap out of it, gasping and bowing her head, Sabé moves forward. "Anything?" she asks tensely.

"No." Amidala shakes her head; she sounds close to tears. "Nothing."

Sabé lays a hand on the Senator's shoulder, eyes full of compassion.

My sister and I stare at one another in utter confusion. _What just happened?_

_

* * *

_The Jedi Temple is burning. I can't believe it. It's a mistake. It has to be a mistake. Yet it is happening. The sight is right before my disbelieving eyes. The Jedi Temple, which has stood as firmly as a mountain the whole time I have been here, easy to pick out despite how far away we are from it, is being consumed in plumes of black smoke.

Who would do this? And why? The Separatists, maybe, no, certainly, but I didn't think they'd launch another attack. Not so soon, at any rate.

Sabé sees the smoke. The little color left in her face drains from it. She acts quickly. Sabé pulls off her deep red handmaiden's dress, and slides into a plain, high-collared black dress, and a deeply hooded, black cloak with fine, tri-color silk trim.

As she does this, she speaks to us. "If Lady Amidala asks where I am, lie, and say I have gone somewhere." She checks her weapons: the blaster clipped to her belt and the one hidden in the folds of her skirt; the long vibroblade at her right hip and the shorter one tucked into the top of one of her boots. She stares out the window again, eyes bleak and darkened.

"Are you going somewhere?" I ask. I smooth the silk dress she has discarded and subsequently rumpled, putting it back in the closet.

"Not just yet," she says grimly, pulling her cloak hood about her face. It is as deep and concealing as any handmaiden's robe.

My sister and I glance uneasily at each other. A handmaiden who lies to her mistress can bring on the wrath of the Gods, not to mention be threatened with banishment. Besides, Senatorial handmaidens aren't really supposed to go anywhere, especially during night, at all.

Sabé catches our reluctance out of the corner of her eye. "Ladies, it is very important that you do this for me. If she catches you in a lie, I will take the blame." She is literally beseeching us.

We stare into our similar eyes and sigh. We have very little say in the matter. Lady Amidala may command our loyalty as our mistress, but Sabé commands our loyalty as the principal handmaiden.

"But Sabé," my sister protests. "It's three in the morning."

"Yes." Sabé sets her teeth. "I know." Her cloak swishes against the carpeted floor as she departs the room, looking for all the world and blessed saints like a wraith in her dark clothes.

Anakin arrives. He and my Lady talk on the landing platform. Lady Amidala's pregnancy has progressed from the time since Anakin returned to Coruscant. The lady is quite distraught.

My sister and I stand in the shadowy doorway, barely seen at all, our cloaks fading into the shadows and contours of the apartment, peering out worriedly from underneath lacy, lavender-gray hoods.

Anakin sees us and scowls. He is not particularly fond of us handmaidens, at least not anymore, disliking the way we trail our mistress, he says derisively, like "clucking mother hens". Sabé he likes least of all, which is ironic, and somewhat troubling, considering they used to be friends.

It is only my sister and I who spot Sabé hiding in the deep shadows cast by high pillars, watching Anakin and our mistress as they speak of the fall of the Jedi.

* * *

"...the first Galactic Empire!" old Palpatine crows, in a disturbingly cracked, croaky voice.

I am torn between rage and dismay. I can see my sister feels the same way. We look at each other and we both think, _It has all been mismanaged._

Lady Amidala looks up in horror. She is wearing a plain, dark velvet robe (over her nightgown), and an absolutely ghastly pointed headdress. The Senate was called at short notice, so we didn't have time to get the Senator into anything too ornate, but why did she have to insist on wearing such an unsightly headdress?

Senator Organa is furious. He actually tries to move forward to protest, but Lady Amidala catches his arm, fear flaring in her eyes. Later, she will tell him to "be a good little Senator", and not to oppose Palpatine openly.

I expect protests, cries of outrage, but the actual reaction of the present senators floors me. Silence for a few moments, then applause, applause to rival the earthquakes I sometimes experienced back home. How can they clap? Do they not realize what this means? Do they have any idea what they're agreeing to?

"So this is how liberty dies," Lady Amidala spreads her hands and falls back into her seat, "with thunderous applause." Disgust registers plainly on her face.

Senator Organa leans in to have a few private whisper with her. "Come to my quarters immediately. The others will be there, too. We must do something about this." He is steaming with pent-up anger and righteous ire.

"We must tread more carefully than before," she whispers, glancing nervously at the red-clad guards.

* * *

Sabé is back, and she has brought Anakin's master with her. He, like Senator Organa, is always kind to us and unfailingly polite, but, like Organa, there's a good chance that he doesn't know our names. When he comes, it is almost always to talk to Sabé. I know very little of him, except that he is a relatively soft-spoken man with a musical voice and prematurely gray-shot hair.

It is sunset now; the yellow light floods the living room. Lady Amidala was trying to sleep (when you're a Senator or a member of their entourage, you sleep when you can), but we could not.

Master Kenobi and the Lady are sitting on the couch; Sabé stands behind it, silent and white-lipped, eyes fixated on the Jedi.

When they first arrived, Sabé barked at us to leave the room, but we have disobeyed her, and instead stand at the far side of the room, too far way to hear what is being said (The conversation is being conducted in low voices). Sabé knows we are here still, but she apparently does not wish to waste the energy required to enforce her order.

Lady Amidala seems unbelieving, her agitation growing; Sabé is pale and anxious. It is the Jedi's disposition, however, that catches my attention, and merits my compassion. He is bone-weary and unmistakably heartbroken. He tries to keep it off his face, but he can not hide it. Every new line on his face, every new gray hair in his ruddy hair and beard, his hunched shoulders, the glittering tears tracks on his face proclaim it. It would not be clearer if he screamed it from the rooftops.

The Jedi finally says something that makes Amidala snap. She says something, in a very calm, quiet voice. The Jedi attempts to protest.

She says it again, but this time, it is a shout. "Get out!"

He reacts as if struck, standing up. The hateful look Amidala throws in Sabé's direction for bringing him here has me momentarily afraid that she will dismiss Sabé as well. Where would she go? Go with him, most like. And what kind of life would that be, living on the run?

Lady Amidala shifts in her seat, putting an aching hand to her temple. In doing so, her dressing gown and iridescent nightgown twist around, coming to rest tightly against the smooth dome of her now-huge belly.

The Jedi sees this. The expression of his face, that of a man sick at heart, deepens, and I could wail aloud in sympathy. He says something, very quietly, his eyes dark with pain; Sabé grows white with fear.

I can not hear him, but I can lip read well enough to understand. "Anakin is the father, isn't he?" The Lady gives him no answer, staring off into space, and he needs none. There is only one man in all the universe who could be the father of her child. "I am so sorry."

Sabé hurries over to him. They exchange a few quiet words, him gripping her hands tightly.

Then he does something I didn't expect, pulling her into his arms tightly. He obviously has never tried that before; we who know Sabé best know that her reaction to any sort of physical contact is to pull away sharply, the result of some earlier trauma, no doubt. For a moment, I can see Sabé's back stiffen, and I hold my breath, expecting her to pull away, but she doesn't. Instead, even more surprisingly, Sabé returns the embrace, wrapping her arms around his back. I can almost swear there are tears falling on Sabé's dark hair. For a small number of moments, no more than five seconds, he clings to her the way a drowning man clings to a life raft.

Then he leaves, and the sight of his departure makes me want to weep.

* * *

We help our Lady into a simple outfit. The Lady holds still as Sabé braids her hair into a simple, long plait down her back.

"Why did you bring him here, Sabé?" The question is unexpected, and much calmer than any of us had reason to hope it would be.

"You know why." Sabé's answer is immediate, and her low, intense voice throbs with meaning.

What Lady Amidala says next is clearly a warning. "I know you mean well, Sabé, but don't let your feelings run away with you."

After this tense conversation we to an out-of-the-way landing platform, where the skiff and C-3PO are waiting. "Let me go with you, my Lady," Captain Typho pleads in earnest.

"No, Captain." Lady Amidala shakes her head in sadness and growing aggravation, toddling towards the skiff.

"The let _me _go with you, my Lady." Sabé's cloak flaps in the wind.

"No, Sabé. Listen to me, both of you." She turns round to stare at her handmaiden and security captain. "When I return, I will be going directly to Naboo. I wish for the four of you to return home posthaste. That means now." Her tone is maddeningly dismissive as she walks up the ramp.

In the dying light, I think I see a figure, dark-cloaked, creep silently in behind her, but the sight is fleeting and transitory. I blink, and when I look back again, there isn't any evidence that anyone was ever there. _It is only a trick of the light_, I am thinking.

I can see the unanswered question that exists upon Sabé's red lips as the skiff takes off. _When? Not "if"?_

"Why does she wish us to return home?" I ask, bursting with curiosity.

"The Lady feels her time is near," Sabé replies, still staring at the shrinking skiff.

"But Sabé," my sister protests, "she is only halfway through her seventh thirty day stretch."

"Yes, I know." Her thin lips tighten.

"Do you think Anakin will try to hurt her?" Sabé knows that I have substituted the word "hurt" for "kill".

She catches my unspoken words. "If she makes him angry enough, he will."

Sabé continues to gaze out at the sky, long after the skiff has vanished into the clouds. "I begged him…to let me go with him," she whispered, in an almost offhand tone, "and he refused. Said that "my place was with her". But she's gone too. So, now what?"

My fellow lilac cloaked handmaiden and I blink uncomfortably at each other, sticking our heads behind her back to do so. We're not sure that she meant us to hear that. We're not sure she even knows she's saying it out loud.

_These are the final days, as I see them before me, _I think, as I get back into the speeder. The engines rev up, grating on my sensitive ears, as we take off, heading back for the apartments.

We are going back to Naboo. From there on, the future is uncertain, and I can not help but look upon it with more than a little trepidation.

The sun is setting. The daylight is fading wholeheartedly. Eternal night is coming, but the nightmare has already arrived.

* * *

I'm not sure if putting this in first person was a good idea. However, it was the only way to not give away the identity of the narrator without making the oneshot confusing. Tell me what you thought!


End file.
